Precursor: this chapter is slightly longer than usual and holds a couple of plot twists. Enjoy!

All credit goes to where it is due (:

My mom left the day after Prim's 10th birthday.

But at least she had the decency to wait until she reached a double-digit age, right?

Her leaving didn't come as a shock to me. I mean, I could read the tabloids by that age, flashing images of her in dark cars and shady restaurants with Coriolanus Snow. Snow was a media-proclaimed silver fox and star of the big screen. He'd won two Oscars for Best Actor in a Drama in his career and was notorious for never settling down… until he met my mother at least. She served my dad with the divorce papers, and within days I no longer had a mother.

I've been told that's a little harsh- to completely cut your mom out of your life. But what I saw in the aftermath of her leaving wiped a clean slate where my affection for her used to reside. My father was a broken man. Within the month, my father had outfitted the house with both a new security system and bodyguards for his two children, courtesy of Capitol Security. Like somehow, he could protect us from any more heartache by spending thousands on external forces- when the real danger had been under our roof all along.

And while he'd always poured himself into his work 100%, something in him had changed; like expansion and success replaced the hole that my mother had left him with. Aside from the time he spent with me and Prim, he was a machine, dedicated to the function of unprecedented business growth.

And it worked for him. People loved my dad. I mean, really loved him. He was the sweet guy next door who'd not only help you repair your broken lawnmower, but teach you the principals of refurbishment and resale (so you could make a profit off of the old thing). I'd like to say that I inherited his drive, but definitely missed the lesson on people skills.

So when I left my meeting with Peeta, I still didn't know what to make of it.

"You mean that he was secretly a covert operative from SELF all along, tasked with monitoring your private movements to get the scoop on the cover story?" Prim's giddy voice rang through the phone as she tried to reason what had happened in the past 24 hours.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know if it's really that serious, Prim. But I mean, what did he think I was going to spill- the Krabby Patty secret formula? It's just so frustrating that he wouldn't just be honest about it in the first place." I could hear her clicking her tongue at me on the other end and it really made me antsy. Prim was good at that, making me nervous. Since she turned 10 I had more or less taken on the role of her mother, and with that came great responsibility. From her frailness and propensity for sickness to her moving all the way across the country to attend Stanford for her undergrad, I hadn't stopped worrying in 15 years.

"Oh Katniss, you fret too much. Effie has told you about those wrinkly frown lines in your forehead." I sighed. Of course, Effie. I hadn't even thought about calling my publicist to alert her of the news. This could potentially create some sort of media backlash that she was going to need to squelch. "But listen to me; I don't think this Peeta is a bad guy. Maybe somebody wanted to treat you normal for once, you know? Even if he did know who you were at The Hob, maybe he wanted to get to know you. Not Katniss the CEO of Everdeen Athletics." Of course Prim wanted to see the good in him- she always did. But the reality was, Peeta knew exactly who he was dealing with last night and he kept that to himself. That's sneaky and inconsiderate. "You've been spending too much time with cranky-pants Gale. Speaking of whom, Rory told me that you guys haven't spoken in weeks. That doesn't sound like you."

Gale had told his little brother about our fight? That must have meant something. He must have been as riled up about it as I was. "Yeah, he stopped by here trying to play nice, but I wasn't having it. He knows what he did."

"Listen, I have to get going, I have an interview for an internship at the UC Berkeley Medical Center at 2, but please think about talking to him, okay? He's your best friend, and I'd hate to see everything you've been through with him wash down the toilet." Just as we said our goodbyes, Madge slid into the room, carrying with her that infamous clipboard.

"Ms. Everdeen, Effie Trinket called and requested that you attend the exhibition at the Agora Gallery this evening. The sales are going towards the 'Paint for the Children' charity and she says it'll be a great photo opportunity." Of course it's a great photo-op. The charity thing was just an added bonus. "You do, of course, need to RSVP immediately."

I nodded quickly, glancing at my computer screen to check my schedule. Not that my personal life was bustling, but I had a number of meetings that may have had to be rearranged. "That's fine, Madge. Please contact the Bloomingdale's sales rep and see if we can move our appointment to tomorrow night. And oh, can you have a dress messengered over to my loft?" She nodded quickly and looked away.

"Um, Ms. Everdeen?"

"Yes Madge?"

"Effie said that you're going to need a date."

Sometimes I felt like Josie Grossie from Never Been Kissed.

I mean, yeah, I'd had a few brief relationships in the past, but by and large I was clueless as to how I should handle myself in matter of romance. Honestly, femininity wasn't my strong suit at all. If it were up to me, I'd be wearing my leather jacket, cargo pants and riding boots everyday- but I've been told that's frowned upon. Having the resources at my disposal to hire experts in the way of managing social interactions and fashion awareness were the only explanation for my keen public appearance.

So when I prepared for the gallery opening, it wasn't alone.

My stylist, Cinna insisted on being there for the prep. He'd outfitted me in a belted Michael Kors stretch crepe dress and leopard print Dolce and Gabbana heels. My hair was done in a fountain braid and curled midway down my back. While I wasn't as comfortable as I would have been in my cargos, I had to say, the look was spot on. "Have I mentioned lately that you're a genius?" I asked, whirling around to face him. His smile, as always, was both sweet and amused.

"Not nearly as much as you should, my dear." His gentle voice filled my bedroom. My Chelsea loft was far too big for one person, but with Cinna present, it didn't feel quite so empty. Getting all dolled up was one of those sacrifices I was willing to make if it meant there would be some bustle around the place. "But a genius artist is only as magnificent as his subject will allow."

I shook my head at his flattery. "Thanks, Cin, but no matter how magnificent a subject I am, I don't think it's going to help me tonight." I'd agreed to the event this evening, but I wasn't feeling at all prepared for it. The Agora Gallery had become one of my favorite art galleries in on Fifth Avenue in the time that I'd spent working the New York social scene, but even that wasn't enough to get me excited. "What if Gale decides not even to show up? I wouldn't blame him. I mean, I'm a complete mess. I have no idea what I want from him, what I want to say to him tonight."

He soothingly rubbed my shoulders as we made eye contact in the mirror. "You dear, are both graceful and fierce, like a phoenix. You have the most driven spirit and determined edge of any woman I've ever met. You are the farthest thing from a mess." Gah, I loved Cinna. If only he was interested in my type, I'd just marry him and get it all over with. Instead, I was forced to sift through my strange barrage of emotions regarding my former best friend/body guard in an arranged pseudo-date capacity…

Say that five times fast.

Before I could respond to Cinna's kind words, the doorbell rang. 8 o'clock, right on time. Gale was never late. He offered an encouraging smile in my direction and gently urged me towards the door. I glided quickly across the floor of my oversized living room, opening the door and revealing a sight that I'd never quite acknowledged before: Gale was hot. Like really, really hot. Clad what looked like a charcoal Jones New York three-piece pinstripe suit with a navy blue Hermes Signature Collection tie (I shouldn't have known that, but you spend enough time with Effie Trinket, you learned what was what in the world of materialism), Gale was a sight for sore eyes. Even I had to admit that we'd make a disgustingly compatible pair.

"You uh, look nice." I mumbled out, quickly closing the door behind me, leaving no room for unnecessary fraternization. We needed to get to the event and get to talking. And the way I was feeling, the conversation in and of itself might be a bit of a challenge.

He placed his hand on the small of my back, the way he'd always done before, ushering the two of us down the hallway and into the elevator. "I don't look nearly good enough to be going out with you though." I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. This wasn't the first time Gale had ever said something nice to me, so why was I suddenly feeling all pre-pubescent and girly about it? We were just two friends, out for a night of reckoning.

I suddenly wished that Johanna knew how to keep her mouth shut. If she hadn't told me that there was all of this unresolved romantic tension between us, I never would have felt any type of shift. And from the way Gale's hand hadn't left my back all the way to the car, he had felt it too. "So uh, how are things at the office?" I struggled for a conversation topic that wouldn't come back to the strange ache that had formed in the pit of my stomach; whether from the unspoken tension between us or from the fact that I knew he loved me, I couldn't exactly tell. "Thresh is great, by the way. A real step up from the last guy they stuck me with." I playfully elbowed him in the ribs, attempting to lighten the mood. The driver had started towards the gallery, and the closer we got the more anxious I became.

He laughed. "Yeah, I handpicked the guy; no wonder he's top of the line." Typical Gale bravado; things had changed even less than I'd thought. "But Capitol is Capitol, you know, a lot of pampered people needing supervision- my favorite thing to deal with." He rolled his eyes. Thom Hawthorne had worked hard to craft an elite identity for his business, catering to the upper crust of society. While it had proved profitable, Gale had never been thrilled with the idea. "They all really need a reality check. I just wish we could appeal to the people who need us the most, you know? People with actual security threats."

"Oh yeah, I completely agree." I nodded half-heartedly and gazed out the window. What was I doing here?

I felt a warm hand covering my own and immediately looked at the space between us. "You okay, Catnip? You seem a little off tonight. Not that you're the most normal person, anyway."

I didn't have time to respond. My door opened from the outside, already blinding me with the sight of flashbulbs. This, I could do. The protocol on red carpets was relatively cut and dry; mile, pose, turn, repeat- something I needed in my life right about then.

"Katniss, Katniss!" The reporters beckoned immediately as I stepped foot on the carpet. I had to remind myself that even charity events sported the same backdrops for celebrity as an awards show, as I walked past Mark Wahlberg (probably promoting his new movie) and Drew Barrymore (definitely advertising her new cookbook) within a few steps. "Katniss, is it true that you're dating Gale Hawthorne?" One not-so-surprisingly gutsy reporter blurted out as Gale and I stepped into plain sight. I shot a tight smile over my shoulder for the cameras. "Katniss, are you really over Jason Cato?"

That question caught me off guard. Cato had been my first and only adult love, having met him right in the thick of my personal turmoil. Things started off well between us. He was not only gorgeous, but seemingly sweet- and needy. Two things I couldn't quite cater to.

My smile, which was previously unaffected quickly tightened. "You don't have to answer that, Catnip." Gale's protective presence had once again appeared by my side, his hand taking its rightful place on my back, steering me away from the aggressive reporters and expeditiously into the building. He was always saving me from something.

"Thanks, Gale. You'd think I would be used to that question by now." I breathed slowly, readjusting myself to the much more relaxed atmosphere inside of the gallery.

"You shouldn't have to be used to it. This disgusting media virus needs to stop." I knew where he was going with this rant, the same place it always went. "We should get away from this whole circus for a while, you know? Just take a break from it all." I wanted to just nod obligatorily, but stopped short. The devil himself had materialized in front of me, blonde country singing superstar demoness right along with him.

"Katniss! What a surprise, I didn't know you were going to be here!" Cato offered his brightest smile and I stiffened immediately as he threw his arms around me. He was always too affectionate for my taste, especially under the circumstances. Somewhere in his mind, we must have reconciled.

I missed that memo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Cato?" Gale's voice boomed from behind me, effectively stepping forward and creating distance between Cato and I. "Don't ever put your hands on her again. Do you hear me?" This was a disaster waiting to happen. Effie was going to be calling me out in the morning.

"Gale, its fine, really. Let's just go." I grabbed his elbow and he tore it away.

"No Katniss, it's not fine. Someone needs to tell this asshole where he can put his hands." He shoved Cato's chest. Cato, being the delicate, no-physical-contact- baseball player (nothing against baseball players, but I'm mean really, there's no touching), took a step back in shock. I was absolutely mortified. Not only was Gale back to his same hotheaded behavior, but now he was making a very public scene- one that was bound to be covered in every major daily gossip rag in New York tomorrow morning.

"Hey bro, it's all good. I was just saying hello to an old friend. Let's keep it kosher, man." The attention that had been drawn to the little altercation was growing, and I wanted to melt away. "Katniss, keep your dog on a leash, please." Gale was growing visibly angrier by the second.

I could tell he was waiting for me to rebuttal. He wanted me to respond to Cato's dog comment- but I couldn't. I just didn't have it in me. Gale refused to change his behaviors even after everything we'd through recently. There were no words to describe my mortification. "Maybe we should just go." I whispered.

"No. Maybe I should just go. It's clear that this isn't where I need to be." I knew he was implying more than just at the gallery. He meant with me. He didn't fit into my life in the same way anymore and we both knew it. We were just too blind to accept it. I watched as he turned to leave, everyone attempting to redirect their attention to the individual pieces of art that they planned on buying. I wandered away, trying to maintain any semblance of normalcy that remained in the evening. I stopped in front of a particularly beautiful oil painting of a sunset, drawing me into something more serene than the situation at hand.

"Do you like it? It's one of my favorite pieces from my last collection."

I knew the voice before I bothered to turn around and meet his icy blue gaze. The plaque underneath the portrait read a name I was growing to know too well. I silently mouthed the name to myself.

"Peeta Mellark."

Wow, that took a while, eh? Please let me know what you thought, and if you want a more visual representation of the locations and ensembles featured in this chapter, the links are available in my profile!